Floating like an astronaut
I bound across the rug, a smiling spirit
I sing unconsciously.
Tomorrow is Saturday,
And we will be together.
Hot coffee and cold ice cream sensations
Overtake me,
I squeal, like a giddy child,
Thoughts of you do this to me.
You satisfy like the lunch special at an old school Greek diner.
But you make better coffee than them.
I always make it too weak or too strong,
Even when we are too old to do anything other than sit and wait to die,
I will still need you,
To hold my hand, look into my eyes,
And of course
To make the coffee.
But, I'd love you still, even if you made horrible coffee.
I'd still want to hold
Your hand,
And look into your eyes,
And when we're that old
We can always go to the diner,
And eat ice cream.
The coffee's pretty good there too,
And when your with me, I don't even need to put sugar in it.
Just some silliness, floating around in my head.